Between the Adventures 3
by The Inner Genie
Summary: Vignettes -- Well, they can't have adventures EVERY day.


BETWEEN THE ADVENTURES 3  
  
Well, they can't have adventures EVERY day!  
  
Disclaimer: NO money was made. NO copyright infringements intended. NO kidding.  
  
Vignettes By The Inner Genie  
  
***********************************  
  
Love Is  
  
10/1/03  
  
Smiling dreamily, Marguerite Krux pulled back the light blanket and slipped into her narrow bed. She snuggled her head into her soft pillow and let the memory of the evening play over in her mind.  
  
They had spent the day collecting medicinal plants. Roxton, Challenger, and Marguerite had headed back to the treehouse just before dark. After grabbing up some fruit and leftover soup, Challenger, in his usual distracted manner, said that he would be spending the rest of the evening in his lab trying to synthesize the weeds into much needed medicine. Roxton and Marguerite were left on their own to spend the evening together.  
  
They fixed a light dinner with much teasing and laughing. Afterwards, Marguerite brought out the Ouija board and persuaded Roxton to sit down with her and play. At first, he pushed the pointer around to spell out preposterous words. He had Marguerite in a laughing fit over his answers to her trivial questions. Challenger popped his head up the stairs to ask what all the noise was about, but he declined to join them (much to their secret relief) and said that he preferred to get his answers by more scientific means.  
  
After a while, the laughter died down, the questions got more personal and the pointer was left to move on its own. It was well after midnight, and the candles they had lit were burning low, when Roxton asked, in a soft, hesitant voice, the question that had been on his mind all evening.  
  
Marguerite felt her heart beating faster, even though she had sensed this question was coming. She had never been so scared in her life. She debated with herself whether or not to push the pointer to spell out a flip answer, but at the last minute, she decided to let her subconscious direct her fate.  
  
As soon as the pointer moved to the Y, Roxton jumped up and pulled her into his arms. The next hour was beyond even what her daydreams and fantasies had imagined. His loving words and soft caresses were infinitely sweet to her soul, which had been deprived of such love all of her life. At last, they reluctantly kissed good night and went to their separate rooms.   
  
The candle she had brought with her into her bedroom fluttered as its flame was disturbed by the entrance of the man who had been obsessing her thoughts.  
  
"John?" she said, surprised. She sat up in bed. "What is it?"  
  
John sat down beside her. "I just want to be with you," he said, softly. He cupped her cheek with his rough hand.  
  
Her large gray eyes tried to look into his brown-green ones, but dark shadows covered his expression. She wasn't sure what he was asking, but she trusted him, so she flipped back the covers and moved over to make room. He slid in beside her and pulled her against his chest.  
  
She snuggled against him; reveling in the safe, warm feeling he gave her. He held her tightly and rubbed his hand up and down her back. When his hand moved to her breast, Marguerite placed her hand over his.  
  
"What is it," Roxton asked his voice husky.  
  
"John, you know that we can't," she reminded him gently. "We wouldn't want a passel of little Roxtons running around the treehouse, would we?  
  
"Doesn't sound so bad to me," he said gruffly, but he moved his hand.  
  
They were silent for a few minutes, which was just enough time for Marguerite to start to panic. She knew how men got when their advances were rejected.  
  
John felt her body tense and asked worriedly, "You do want to, don't you?"  
  
Marguerite stilled. He didn't sound angry, or threatening, or disgusted. He sounded a little panicky himself. She began to breathe again.  
  
"Of course, I do," she hastily reassured him. "When I told you that I loved you ---"  
  
"Well, actually, the Ouija board told me that you loved me," he interrupted.  
  
She smiled, relieved, at the humor and love in his voice. She gently smacked the arm that was wrapped around her waist.  
  
"When I told you I loved you," she began again in a more forceful tone. "I meant in every way."  
  
He sighed in relief, then said resignedly. "So, I suppose we wait."  
  
"For that, yes." She snuggled down on his chest and said in a voice that wasn't quite as confident as she could have wished. "But love isn't just that---is it?"  
  
"Hell, no!" he said with a laugh, then sobered as he realized that she probably didn't know what love was beyond that. He pulled her closer, nuzzled the top of her head, and repeated quietly, "Hell, no. Love is--- ever so much more."  
  
"I'm---I'm not very good at love."  
  
His breath caught in his throat at her admission. He realized the trust she was placing in him. He closed his suddenly moist eyes and rested his forehead on her soft curls.  
  
"Oh, my darling," he whispered in her ear, "you're better at love then you'll ever know."  
  
*****  
  
The Present  
  
10/2/03  
  
It sat in the middle of the kitchen table. Innocently. Quietly. The beautiful cage surrounding it was intricately woven from bamboo and vines. Glistening gems hung by thin strips of leather swayed gently inside the cage, catching sunbeams and sending out rainbows. Gorgeous. The emerald green bird sitting in the cage preening its jewel-like feathers was gorgeous as well. Four of the treehouse dwellers were hunched glumly around the table, chins resting on upturned palms.  
  
Marguerite Krux gave a snort of frustration and sat up straight.  
  
"I don't know about the rest of you, but I have better things to do than sit around babysitting a stupid parrot. I'll be in my room."  
  
She started to rise when Ned Malone snaked out a hand and grabbed her arm preventing her from standing up.  
  
"You can't go," he said firmly.  
  
"Just watch me," the irrepressible beauty invited.  
  
"No, please, Marguerite," begged the handsome dark-haired man on her left, looking over at her with desperate green eyes. "Don't go. Please."  
  
She glared at him.  
  
"All right. All right. I'll stay, but something must be done."  
  
Professor George Challenger suddenly smacked both hands on the table and stood up, averting his eyes from their faces.  
  
"I'm very much afraid that I must leave, he said strongly, then muttered, "Nature calls, you know." Before anyone could stop him. He walked quickly down the stairs and out of sight. The three left tensed.  
  
The parrot popped its yellow head out from under its wing and blinked its beady, little eyes as it looked around at the human statues. Counting heads? It stretched up to its full height and flapped dazzling wings.  
  
"BLOODY HELL! BLOODY HELL! BLOODY HELL!" it screeched at earsplitting, hair-raising volume. "Isn't that FASCINATING? Don't pretend you don't understand me! Isn't that FASCINATING? I'm only a bird in a gilded cage. MAR-GUER-RRRRITE! Come back here. Don't pretend you don't understand me! Coffee? Did someone say coffee? It isn't MY fault. Stand back, it's about to explode. BLOODY HELL! I told you this would happen---"  
  
Their eyes wide with panic, the explorers held their hands over their ears as the bird went on and on.  
  
"I'm coming. I'm coming!" called Challenger sprinting up the stairs. Breathlessly, he slid into his seat.  
  
The parrot's sharp little beak snapped shut like a ring box. It cocked its head and looked right at the red-bearded scientist.  
  
"Sorry," he muttered to the bird.  
  
The bird went back to preening and the people at the table sighed in unison.  
  
Lord Roxton's green eyes narrowed as he looked around at his fellow hostages.  
  
"This can't go on," he hissed. "We have to do something."  
  
Ned Malone shrugged his broad shoulders. "What? We've tried everything. We can't let it go since it's a present from Assai and Jarl---"  
  
"True, we tried letting it go, and the blasted bird screeched us half deaf until we opened the cage and let it back in."  
  
They all scowled at this memory.  
  
"I still don't see why we can't just kill it," Marguerite said glaring fiercely at the parrot.  
  
"Several reason, really, my dear," Challenger lectured her. He ticked them off on his fingers. "One, it's obvious that the bird won't leave us, so Assai and Jarl will want to know what happened to it. Two, this bred of parrot is sacred to the Zanga and we would bring the wrath of Jacoba and his warriors down on our heads. And, three, Veronica won't let us."  
  
"Speaking of Veronica," the linguist snarled. "How is it that SHE can leave the bird's sight, and WE can't? It's HER stupid present!" she exploded.  
  
"You should be happy she CAN move around, Marguerite," Ned admonished her. "Otherwise, she wouldn't be out right now getting us fresh food and fire wood, and---and---and---"  
  
"Birdseed?" Challenger said trying to be helpful.  
  
Ned clamped his lips shut and frowned.  
  
Roxton cleared his dry throat. "I don't know about the rest of you, but if we are forced to sit here until Veronica gets home, I could use a nice cup of tea."  
  
The mighty hunter looked around for agreement.  
  
Challenger nodded. "A cup of tea would be splendid."  
  
"Sure," Ned said.  
  
"I suppose so, but let's get some bread and cheese while we're up," the dark-haired beauty suggested.  
  
Roxton nodded. "All right. Let's go."  
  
As one, the four stood up.  
  
"Great Caesar's Ghos---!" the parrot started to squawk shrilly, but then subsided with a satisfied chirp when his cage was picked up and the adventurers huddled around it. Shoulder to shoulder, they shuffled to the stove where Roxton reached over their heads and dumped tea leaves and steaming water into the second best teapot. Ned stretched his hand out and snagged the cheese plate, a loaf of bread and a knife.  
  
"Ready?" asked Challenger.  
  
"Ready."  
  
Clutching their repast and the parrot, they shuffled back to the table.  
  
The tea was delicious; the bread and cheese hit the spot. The explorers smiled and leaned back, more relaxed now that they'd eaten.  
  
Ned chuckled.  
  
"What's so funny, old boy? How about sharing the joke."  
  
"I was just thinking about that first evening when we put the parrot out on the balcony for the night?" Ned grinned.  
  
"Ah," the older man said.  
  
"Yes," Roxton broke in, "it shouted bloody murder for hours before it seemed to quiet down." He chuckled. "Well, the joke was on us, all right. How were we to know that our feathered housemate can speak more than one language?"  
  
Challenger sat up straighter and nodded. "Indeed. The simian noises it was making were really quite remarkable for an amazona oratrix."  
  
Ned smirked. "I was just remembering the fit Marguerite threw the next morning when we found the treehouse full of monkeys."  
  
Stung, Marguerite tossed her head. "Well, Ned Malone, I certainly remember the fit you threw when you found one of them writing in your journal."  
  
Now it was Ned's turn to scowl. "That wasn't funny, Marguerite. It destroyed some very fine writing!"  
  
"Au contraire. I thought the writing style vastly improved."  
  
"Now, now, children," Roxton cut in. "Stop your bickering. We should be thinking of ways to get around our little problem here."  
  
Challenger cleared his throat.  
  
"Ah, John, old boy, I think there may be more than one problem." Challenger's cheeks were as red as his beard.  
  
"Again?"  
  
"I'm afraid so."  
  
"Me, too," Marguerite said quickly. "So, if you're going, I'm going with you. I'm not sitting here with that---that insane fowl."  
  
"I've been thinking," Ned began, and then he hesitated for a moment realizing that his words might earn a sarcastic comment from Marguerite. When she merely smirked, he went on. "The bird is just as unhappy if only one of us leaves, so why don't we all go at the same time? Or, we could all go and take the bird with us."  
  
Marguerite gave an unladylike snort.  
  
"Brilliant, Malone. So I'm supposed to share the WC with three men and a bird?"  
  
Ned blushed. "Of course not, Marguerite! I---I---didn't mean that. Challenger, John and I---and the bird---will wait outside the door, and, if you talk loudly the whole time, the bird will think you're still with us and won't go berserk."  
  
Marguerite stared at the journalist of a long moment, then, blinked, and turned to the other two men.  
  
"John, George, I'm going to the WC and if Ned, the bird, or either of you follow me, I'll shoot you. Is that clear?"  
  
"Perfectly," the three men muttered.  
  
"Perfectly," said the bird.  
  
"Good"  
  
Marguerite pushed back her chair and marched off. The men immediately clapped their hands over their ears. And just in time, too.  
  
"Have you forgotten whose house this is?" the bird inquired deafeningly. "I'll shoot you. Is that clear? Is that clear? Leave me alone, Ned. Are you insane? MAR-GUER-RRRRITE! I say, old boy. GET THE MONKEY! Where the hell is my hat? WC! WC! I'll shoot you. Quick, the monkey has my rifle! What do you think you're doing! Nature calls. Is that CLEAR? I'm a journalist, not a hack. Not now, John. Don't worry; it's just a small fire. BLOODY HELL! Come here, Ned. Veronica? FINE! Stop your bickering! Wipe that smirk off your face. FASCINATING! Is that CLEAR? Assai and Jarl will pay for this! Don't pretend you don't understand me. FINE!---"  
  
Long, agonizing minutes later, Marguerite slipped back into her seat. At the sudden silence, the men slowly lowered their hands.  
  
"I think we should review the "killing it" option," Roxton said through gritted teeth. "Can't you come up with something that will make it seem like a natural death, George?"  
  
Challenger brightened.  
  
"You can't," Ned stated flatly. "I promised Veronica that I wouldn't let anything happen to it."  
  
"Come on, Ned," Marguerite wheedled. "Even you must be sick and tired of this feathered parasite."  
  
Ned wavered. "Well---"  
  
Before he could fold, the elevator clunked and their absent hostess came bounding out.  
  
"I've solved the problem," she grinned holding up a cloth wrapped bundle. She pulled off the cloth to reveal a familiar looking cage, and an equally familiar looking bird.  
  
Marguerite paled. "She's trying to kill us," she whispered.  
  
Veronica frowned at her. "No, Marguerite. I went to the Zanga village and found out what the problem was." She went on excitedly. "You see, parrots mate for life, but my parrot was born in captivity and has never had a chance to find a mate."  
  
"That's why it fixated on us!" Challenger exclaimed.  
  
Veronica nodded and continued. "Yes. Probably. Anyway, they gave me this female parrot and I brought it here so that--- that---"  
  
"Nature could take its course," Roxton said, helping her out.  
  
"Exactly," she agreed.  
  
"Well, what are we waiting for," Marguerite demanded. "Stuff her in his cage and let's get out of here."  
  
Challenger frowned. "Let's not be hasty, Marguerite. We wouldn't want to scare the poor fellow."  
  
Roxton grinned. "Never seen a woman in his life, eh? Well, he's in for a treat."  
  
"Or a trauma," Ned added. His grin faded quickly under Veronica's glare.  
  
"How about we hang the two cages side by side on the balcony so they can begin their courtship?" Challenger suggested.  
  
"Good idea," Veronica agreed.  
  
With Veronica carrying the female, and the other four carrying the male, they carefully hung both cages in the warm breezes of the open balcony, then backed slowly away.  
  
All was quiet. The five explorers smiled in relief and tiptoed back to their rooms.  
  
Suddenly, the air was split with a loud wolf whistle as the male bird turned on his perch and got his first glimpse of his ravishingly beautiful neighbor. Instinct took over.  
  
"Well, helloooo there," he chirped. He bobbed his head up and down, tilting it from side to side in admiration, then ruffled out his feathers, puffed out his chest, and slowly closed one eye in a seductive wink.  
  
"What's a beautiful ochrocephala auropalliata like you doing in a place like this?" he purred.  
  
In the other cage, the female turned her head slowly towards him and rolled her expressive black eyes skywards.  
  
"Could this day GET any better?" she muttered.  
  
*****  
  
Green Thumb  
  
10/10/03  
  
Veronica Layton stooped down and looked at the rows of green and yellow plants pushing up through the dark, brown earth of the jungle plateau. She reached out and touched a particularly sturdy looking bean plant. Its deep green leaves felt smooth and slightly fuzzy between her fingers. She sighed.  
  
"I missed you, little plants," she whispered.  
  
"Who're you talking to, Vee?" Finn asked, leaning over the fence that surrounded the small garden at the foot of the treehouse.  
  
The blond woman leapt to her feet, her tan cheeks pink with embarrassment.  
  
"Just to myself, Finn," she answered quickly. She changed the subject.  
  
"I'm really surprised that my garden is in such great shape. I never knew the others had such a talent for gardening."  
  
"They don't," Finn assured her. "You should have seen this garden when I got here. The weeds had just about taken over the whole thing. Marguerite tried to get them out, but she was pulling out the plants along with the weeds." Finn shook her head with disbelief. "It was a sad state of affairs, as Professor Challenger would say."  
  
Veronica grinned to herself. Ever since she had returned from her journey and met up with the young girl who had come from the future, Finn had been talking her ear off about George Challenger. It was obvious that she had taken a real shine to the older man, and looked upon him as a source of all knowledge.  
  
"So, who's the gardener, then?" Veronica asked with a frown.  
  
Finn pointed to herself with her thumb. "Me," she answered.  
  
Veronica's eyes opened wide as she looked at her new friend.  
  
"But, Finn, I thought you grew up in a big city."  
  
Now it was Finn's turn to flush with embarrassment. "I did, but, you see, I had this friend there who brought me back flowering plants from the countryside. He knew I liked to pot them up. Once, he even brought me back some really good soil he'd dug up." Finn's eyes were distant with memory.  
  
"So, who was this 'friend" who brought you flowers?" Veronica said in a teasing voice, having noted the young woman's embarrassment.  
  
Finn snapped back to the present, and her blue eyes darkened under her lowered brows. "I guess I should've said 'former friend," she said in a tight voice.  
  
Startled by her sudden change in expression, Veronica asked in concern, "What did he do?"  
  
"Let's just say when he was bringing me the flowers, he had other ideas in mind beside friendship," the girl said in a voice suddenly older than her years.  
  
Veronica was taken aback. In her short acquaintance with Finn, she had never heard anything about this. She quickly changed the subject.  
  
"Well, you did a fantastic job on the garden. It looks healthier than when I left."  
  
Finn brightened at the praise, and the black cloud hanging over her vanished with her grin.  
  
"Yeah! Professor Challenger told me how to make fishmeal to put around the roots. And Roxton took me out to this meadow and helped me bring back some dirt that was full of. of.what was it the Professor said?...oh, yeah, full of vital nutrients," she finished.  
  
Veronica grinned at her enthusiasm, then asked slyly, "What did Marguerite do?"  
  
Finn frowned. She pinched her bottom lip in thought, then her face brightened.  
  
"She ate some carrots that Roxton cooked."  
  
"How helpful of her," the jungle girl said sarcastically.  
  
The sarcasm went right past Finn. She nodded in agreement.  
  
"Yeah, Roxton told me she likes nothing less then two carrots."  
  
Veronica threw back her head and laughed. Finn looked at her curiously because she didn't think she'd said anything funny.  
  
Still giggling at the pun, Veronica looked over the garden once more. She shook her head in wonder.  
  
"Finn, I have to say, this garden has never looked better. I think from now on, we'll call it Finn's Garden."  
  
Finn beamed.  
  
"Come on," Veronica said as she walked out of the garden gate. "Let's go find the Professor. I hear he's working on a new invention. I think he called it a telegraph."  
  
Finn fell into step beside her new friend.  
  
"So, Vee," she asked casually, a wicked gleam in her eye. "Just how long have you been talking to the plants?" 


End file.
